


In Her Mistress' Service

by ladyoneill



Category: Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, F/F, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:06:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in the life of Hunter as she serves her favorite mistress, Serpentine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Her Mistress' Service

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Regndoft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regndoft/gifts).



> This fic supposes a sexual relationship between Hunter and Serpentine. It's also set well in the past and Serpentine is in her prime.

Hunter sits on the top step at the foot of Serpentine's throne, one leg stretched before her, the other bent at the knee. Methodically she sharpens a gold-handled knife on a whetstone, the sound soothing to her ears as she tunes out the sycophants begging for her mistress' attention.

Frankly, she's a bit bored. As her mistress' bodyguard, she expects attacks, expects to need to protect and defend. 

No one here is a threat.

As she thinks it, something suddenly feels off.

She sheaths the knife, puts away the whetstone, focuses her attention back on the crowd. A train rumbles past the abandoned platform, but it's not that. Her eyes dart from person to person. Most are known to her as members of this court, but...there. A small figure in a green cloak and hood.

Others wear cloaks and hoods, but this person moves like a killer.

Slipping her hand behind her back, she removes a long knife from its sheath. The one at her waist is just for show. Without her spear, this is her weapon of choice. When drawn, it always tastes blood. 

Hunter makes herself appear to relax, a small smile on her face, eyes light, as if she's listening to the current person pleading for something or other from Serpentine. Looking away from the slowly approaching person, she nods at a couple people she knows better than most, even if she has no respect for them, stretches slightly, completely at ease.

A moment later, she's on her feet, the knife at the throat of the would-be assassin, her free hand gripping a slender wrist and squeezing.

A tiny pistol falls to the ground and the court erupts with fear. Ignoring the annoying screaming, the sounds of running, she digs the knife deeper, drawing a bead of blood, and smiles at the fear scent it evokes.

"Who sent you?"

Obviously afraid, the assassin--a slender, androgynous, young man--simply shakes his head and thrusts his body forward.

The knife cuts deep, hod blood splatters in an arc, covering her face and breasts, and, as she drops the dying body, Hunter licks her lips, tasting the man's death in hot copper.

As she nudges the assassin with one booted foot, she notes that all but Serpentine and her other guards have fled. Feeling the change in air pressure, she is prepared for her mistress' touch from behind.

Serpentine is the one person who has no reason to fear approaching the Hunter from her back, and the only person she will allow to be there.

Familiar, soft lips touch the nape of her neck. A gravely voice sounds in her ear.

Not gratitude. There is no need to thank her for doing her duty.

Desire.

Dropping to a crouch, Hunter wipes her knife clean on the dead man's cloak before resheathing it, then she quickly examines the body for any clues. Not surprised to find nothing, she leaves it for Serpentine's men to deal with, before rising and turning to find this most savage and beautiful of the Seven Sisters gazing at her with lust-filled eyes.

"I want to lick his blood from you, bite marks into your skin, wrap myself in your very essence."

"As you will."

Hunter is anything her mistress wishes her to be. That being this to Serpentine meets her own desires is a true pleasure.

*****

Hours later they lay entwined on a massive bed, covered in furs of creatures Hunter has killed over the many years they have been servant and mistress. As promised, she is both clean of blood, and covered in the impressions of Serpentine's teeth. The small aches are nothing compared to the orgasmic pleasure she gained from the lady's wicked tongue. 

After talking of nothing important for several minutes, Hunter finally asks, "Do you wish me to discover who hired the assassin?"

Serpentine shrugs negligently. "I doubt you will succeed." At Hunter's instinctive frown at the perceived criticism, her mistress pets her shoulder, pushes her down to her firm white breasts. "Touchy," she teases. "Frankly, I don't care. It brought a few moments of excitement to an otherwise very dull day. And we both know there will be more. I hired you to keep me alive from such."

"But if we knew the source..."

"And disposed of it, two more would rise in its place. I am despised, my darling Hunter. I revel in that."

Hunter keeps her comment about Serpentine truly being an odd woman behind her teeth, and slowly nods. Obedience is ingrained in her very soul, but leaving the questions unanswered chafes. In the end, she knows, she'll disobey and pay the price for doing so. It'll be worth it.

But for now...Wrapping her arm around her lover's stomach, she places a soft kiss on the curve of one breast and lets her desire distract her here in the one safe place in Serpentine's lair.

*****

Much later they dine before a warm fire at a table set for two with mismatched china and silver. Serpentine wears only a tattered white silk robe with faded pink roses embroidered on the shoulders. Her blonde hair falls in waves to her waist as she tends it with an ancient ivory and boar bristle brush. She is beautiful, a queen of ice, and beside her, dressed only in her buckskin skirt and her knives at waist and back, Hunter feels inadequate.

She can't help but wonder why this magnificent woman has taken her, of all people, as a lover, but she never questions it out loud. Serpentine's mood are mercurial at best. Hunter has seen her rip out a person's throat with her teeth for looking at her the wrong way. There's a reason the Seven Sisters are the terrors beneath children's beds in the world below.

Wine fermented from berries that have never seen daylight is poured into her glass to accompany the hearty fish stew, mushroom souffle and other delicacies culled from the dark places, and she sips only after her mistress. Eats only after a spoon first passes Serpentine's lips. Hunter knows that this type of obedience amuses her mistress, and she has no problem indulging her in something so simple.

But, she cannot indulge her desire not to pursue the assassin. Yes, another will come, and another master behind them will rise if one is removed. Serpentine's enemies are both legendary and endless, but it's Hunter's sworn duty to protect her mistress from all harm, including her own negligent attitude.

Tomorrow she'll begin her search. Undoubtedly Serpentine will learn of it.

Undoubtedly she'll punish Hunter for it.

Hunter will gladly take whatever pain is doled out to her. In the end, she knows, her lady will forgive her and turn her pain into pleasure.

It's something Serpentine is so very good at.

End


End file.
